


Empty Pockets

by Toryb



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Mentions of child neglect, Pick Pocket Jughead, Single Mom!Gladys Jones, Tag to be added, The Farm is a cult i said what i said, eventually, lots and lots of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-10-24 02:10:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17695613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toryb/pseuds/Toryb
Summary: Ten year old Jughead Jones falls in love with the girl who punches him in the face. But they said the course of love never did run smoothly.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I want to label this: I have the impulse control of a rock and I was gonna make this a oneshot but now it's a two shot (probably...) I hope you all enjoy this little idea I cam up with. I promise promise promise they'll be a happy ending. No beta so all mistakes in this one are my own.
> 
> Edited note at request: when I say angst I mean ANGST guys. This is an emotional ride and I made myself cry. I’m talking child neglect, cult experience, brief attempts at dating other people, hardened emotions, crippled emotions, too many emotions, childhood love, etc. If you don’t feel like I’ve gut punched you than I CAUSED MYSELF TO CRY FOR NOTHING.

_ 11 years old _

Jughead grew up with one hand in someone else’s pocket and his ear pressed against the pulse of the city. Things were hard living in the slums of Toledo, where crime was bad, poverty was worse, and the only thing you could do to get out of either was marry rich and hope you got a one way ticket out of hell. That’s what his mother, Gladys Jones had tried to do. 

 

Forsythe Pendleton Jones the second flew into town with a football scholarship and something to prove. She latched on quick and hard, accompanying him to games and tryouts, playing the part of a loving girlfriend—her star tattoos artfully hidden behind layers of makeup and her combat boots exchanged for kitten heels. When she found out she was pregnant, she hid it as best she could, screwing on her features in a perpetually cheery grin, ignoring the somersaults in her gut every time the baby wiggled. It wasn’t until her stomach began to swell and stretch her jeans that she finally had to come out and to tell FP the truth. He took it about as well as she had thought he would. One minute he was there with his hand rubbing steady circles on her back telling her everything would be okay, and the next he was skipping town with a note saying he was sorry but NYU had picked him up and he needed to be back home with his family.

 

It was irony and bitterness that drove her to name her son Forsythe Pendleton Jones the third, one last fuck you to the man who had ruined her life. Even from a young age, that name weighed on him like a pound of lead bricks, dragging him down to the ground, an easy target for neighborhood and schoolyard bullies. He was almost grateful one day, when someone looked at him and said, “Your head looks like a jug” and all the kids chased him around screaming “Jughead! Jughead! You have a Jughead!” The nickname stuck and the only time he ever had to be Forsythe anymore was when a substitute teacher got his name wrong or his mother was mad at him.

 

Child support kept them afloat, that, the chop shop, and drug lab in their basement that most of the corrupt cops were paid off to ignore. Before he could even read, Gladys would put him on the streets with a cardboard sign asking for help. If a stranger got too close or someone called the cops he knew to run as fast as he could. No one ever chased after him.

 

When he got older and his mother told him he “wasn’t cute enough” for panhandling anymore, he learned a better life skill. Jughead was the best pickpocket in the city by the time he was ten. He would walk through the streets snatching bills out of wallets and crumbling them up so he could buy a candybar from the gas station. His mother only saw some of the money but she never questioned where the rest of it was. She admired her son for his business practices and let him splurge on doughnuts and slurpees now that he was old enough to see over the counter.

 

He was eleven years old, on the precipice of middle school, when he met the love of his life. He was walking around main street, his bicycle hidden in a back alley so he could make a quick getaway if someone caught his sticky fingers. The summer time was surprisingly hot in Ohio and people were shedding their jackets and tucking them around their waist. Stealing was easier  when idiots hid forgot to zip their pockets and their wallets were practically falling out.

 

She was standing in front of a candy seller, eying the gumdrop bags and handspun taffy, her golden hair reflecting light like some kind of angel. She was wearing a pink and white dress with plastic butterfly clips like a crown in her hair. His toes curled in his worn down too small keds and his heart skipped a beat. The little purple leather purse hanging from her shoulders bounced as she wiggled in delight, reaching for the free sucker the merchant had given her. She popped it between her glitter glossed lips and grinned up at him.

 

Jughead moved quickly, dodging through the crowd and trying to focus on anything but her pretty green eyes. She was a girl. They were usually easier to steal from, and his stomach was growling. Gladys had told him not to come home until after midnight tonight because there were people over she needed to do business with, which meant he was on his own for food. He’d emptied out his piggybank this morning only to discovery stash was running dry after buying himself a new pair of jeans. Only a few coins rattled in his pockets now, not even enough for a slim jim or a pack of gum to stave off the hunger.

 

His favorite trick was the bump and run. The person would normally be so distracted by his body colliding with theirs that it would take them a few seconds to notice their purse or wallet missing and by then he was far enough off they couldn’t catch him. When he bumped into the pretty blonde girl, she stumbled back in surprise, but before he could pull the leather strap down from her shoulders, something very hard and very sharp hit his cheek.

 

This girl had punched him.

 

Hard.

 

“What the hell did you do that for?” He really had no room to judge, but his face was stinging and there would be a bruise he’d have to explain away as bullies to his mother, if she even noticed it. “You hit me!”

 

She held onto the strap of her purse defensively, leaning back and away from himi. “You tried to  _ steal  _ from me! You’re a thief and thieves go to hell, I know because my mom told me that!”

 

Jughead rolled his eyes, but before he could speak—or run because he definitely wanted to do that—his stomach began to gurgle in protest. He hadn’t eaten since a few handfuls of dry cereal this morning and it was practically lunch time. The girl’s eyes softened and her stance became less defensive, more pitying. “You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

 

He squared his jaw and turned away. Pity. God he hated that. “No. I’m fine. Sorry I bumped into you or whatever. I’m leaving.”

 

“No you’re not!” she gripped one of his suspenders, pulling him back with a snap. “You’re coming with me. I need lunch and I don’t want to eat a whole sandwich by myself. Besides, you stole from me so you probably have to do whatever I say to make up for it.”

 

Jughead wanted to argue, protest, tell her that there was no way in hell he was doing that, but she had already started to walk in the direction she wanted, her purple mary janes stomping over the cracked and caved pavement. They headed down a path he knew well, to a little deli where the owner showed him pity enough some days to toss him scraps from butchered meats and the moldier bits of cheese. 

 

“You’re not from here are you?”

 

The girl shook her head before shooting him a smile. “Nope. Well maybe now. My mom and my sister and my brother and I just moved here with the Farm. For some reason we had to leave New York. But you should ask my name first. You’re really rude.”

 

“Maybe I want to be rude.”

 

“No one wants to be rude, you’re rude because someone else was rude to you first. That’s what Evelyn always says and she’s my best friend in the world so I know she’s really smart.”

 

He bit his lip, still being dragged along by the surprisingly strong grip of this girl. “Fine. What’s your name? And what’s the Farm? It sounds weird.”

 

“My name is Elizabeth Ann Cooper, but you can call me Betty because all my friends do and because you have to do whatever I say you’re my friend now. What’s your name?” 

 

“You didn’t answer my question about the Farm.”

 

She leveled her gaze at him, raising an eyebrow, “You didn’t answer my question about your name?”

 

He sighed as he walked through the doors of the deli and the bell chimed overhead. Mr. Fogarty wasn’t working today—he always had sundays off so he could go to church with his grandson Fangs—but maybe they’d still be willing to give him a discount. “My name’s Jughead Jones.”

 

“That’s a funny name.”

 

“The Farm is a funny name.”

 

Betty rolled her eyes. “Well yeah. The Farm is a funny place. It’s like church but different. Mom really likes it but I think it’s kind of weird. But after dad….” she hesitated, staring at the rolls in the case for longer than necessary before continuing, “went away she joined the Farm because it made her happy. Chic, my brother, he thinks it’s stupid too and we snuck out of service today, but Polly loves it. What’s good here?”

 

“Oh, um, well kind of everything? I don’t know.”

 

“Well you should tell me what you want because Chic gave me a twenty for lunch and you’re gonna help me spend it.” She grinned at him with perfectly straight teeth and he couldn’t help but smile back.

 

_ 14 years old _

“Come on, Betty! You’re too slow! The water’s going to get cold if you don’t hurry up?”

 

The day Betty Cooper fell in love with Jughead Jones she was fourteen years old, standing perched at the edge of the river, rocking back and forth on her heels. They were tucked in a hidden part of the world, covered in vegetation. It was probably illegal to even be stepping foot here, but the danger sent an adrenaline surge through her whole body, making her shiver. She was just in her matching set of purple underwear and she could Jughead trying to keep his gaze platonic.

 

He was failing, but Betty wouldn’t be lying if she didn’t think his wandering eyes felt good. People didn’t usually look at her as anything more than the girl from the crazy cult at school, aside from the few friends she’d met and gained through her time hanging out the Gladys’ garage, helping them pick out the most valuable parts off of cheap cars they could sell at extreme prices. It felt dirty a lot of the time, but at least it wasn’t the kind of dirty she felt after leaving a private counseling session at the church. They told her she was a coward for delaying her baptism, for having impure thoughts about boys outside the Farm, for looking outside when she could simply look within to find all the happiness she could ever want. Even her own mother had turned hostile these last few months.

 

Evelyn was being mean too. When they were younger they used to be the best of friends, but ever since Evelyn’s father had taken over the Farm, she’d been harder and meaner. She hated any of Betty’s friends who weren’t hers and if she saw them hanging out she’d run and tell the higher ups to get her former best friend in trouble.

 

Toni and Sweet Pea hooted and hollered, trying to encourage her to take the plung and jump in. Chic was covering for her at the Farm again, taking her chores so his littlest sister could go have the fun he never got growing up. When she left the house that morning, through the window not the front door, he had told her to enjoy herself and make a few too many bad decisions.

 

Taking a deep breath, she ran forward, throwing herself into the awaiting crisp blue water. It was cold but refreshing even if it did make the padding in her bra swell awkwardly. When she resurfaced again everyone was laughing and congratulating her on a spectacular dive. She grinned wide and thanked them before promising to watch a tire swing contest between Toni and Sweet Pea to determine the winner.

 

She could feel Jughead sneaking up behind her in the water. He may have been called the best pickpocket in Toledo, but ever since their first meeting in the streets she’d been attuned to his every movement. As he reached out under the water to grab her legs, she kicked away, causing him to sputter back and pop up for a gasp of air.

 

And just like that the game was on. They took turns pulling each under the water, laughing every time someone choked, hands exploring places they’d never dared to touch before. When his hands lingered on her waist, Betty nearly shot four feet out of the water. They were hot and cold and every time he got too close her stomach churned with nauseated excitement.

 

“You kicked me in the chest, Betty!” he shouted, pulling back and rubbing the patch of skin that was already starting to bruise. “Is this a thing now? Do you assault me every year?”

 

“Only when you deserve it. Like when you steal my things or try to tickle me underwater! You know I hate being tickled.”

 

“I solemnly swear I won’t tickle you if you promise to keep your hands and feets out of lethal range,” he teased, moving closer in the water.

 

Toni and Sweet Pea, who were perched on the River bank munching on the supply of snacks they had all brought to share—Toni was especially interested in jar of candied apples Betty had stolen from her mom’s pantry before sliding down the drain pipe to her freedom—finally noticed the two of them. Sweet pea raised his fingers to his lips and whistled loud enough the birds around scattered. “Cool it, lovebirds, and save a little water for the rest of us.”

 

Betty rolled her eyes, but Jughead was far too annoyed for any of that, flipping them both off. She gasped and smacked his chest. “Juggie! You can’t do that!”

 

“Hey! What did we say about non-lethal range touches?”

 

Sweet Pea started cackling, nudging Toni gently. “Yeah you hear that,  _ Juggie _ , listen to your girlfriend and stop being a dick to us.”

 

“She’s not my girlfriend, Sweets,” but when Betty looked, he was blushing, and not the kind of way he did when the sun was too hot and making his cheeks red. It was the kind of blush that started at his ears and consumed his whole face.

 

She wondered, for a few seconds, how much she would like it if Jughead called her his girlfriend. Sometimes, when no one was looking, they would hold hands. She always shared her lunch with him and always told her mom she was at the library studying so they could curl up in the back and watch movies from the Farm’s banned list on his ancient laptop. When it stopped working, she would bang it a few times and it would come to life again. If there was a gorey scene he would bring her close to his chest and promise her he’d tell her when it was all over. Sometimes he’d trick her and lie, saying it was just so he could see the surprise on her face, but  most days he was sweet and kind, running his hand through her hair until the music stopped being so ominous.

 

“Yeah? I’m not so sure about that,” Sweet Pea teased, “What do you think Toni?”

 

The pink haired girl looked up from her apples, frowning at the interruption. Betty shot her a look, as if to say  _ I helped you dye your hair last week and had to burn a pair of my jeans so my mom didn’t find out _ , but even that bargaining chip was for not. A cheshire grin spread across Toni’s face and she laughed.

 

“Absolutely. And you know what boyfriend and girlfriend do? They kiss. Kiss, kiss, kiss,” Sweet Pea soon joined in her chanting, “Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss,” until it became a cacophony.

 

Betty turned to tell him they didn’t have to, blushing brighter than he was now. They were being silly and mean and they didn’t have to do anything they didn’t want to. Before she could speak, Jughead had gripped her face a little too tight and pressed his lips against hers a little too hard, but everything else felt perfectly right and she blinked forgetting about everything else in the whole wide world.

 

When he pulled back, Jughead was grinning, looking down at her like he was staring at the sun. She flushed and reached up to brush a stray piece of hair from his face. Her hands were shaking more than she thought they wound, and out of her lips tumbled a raspy little, “Oh.”

 

Toni and Sweet Pea sat the to the side, howling with laughter and delight over what had just occurred between their best friends. It all came through like white noise as her gaze traced over the part of his lips that had just met hers. She leaned upwards to kiss him again, relishing in the softness the second kiss brought. His lips were softer on her skin, his hands were softer in her hair. The water lapped against her body and they were pressed together in perfect harmony.

 

It was when the leaves started the crunch that they finally pulled back, shooting apart like stars after colliding. They were all shocked to see Chic Cooper standing there, blonde hair a mess, looking nervous and scared. He never looked like that. Even when the Farm threatened to exile him for insubordination he never looked like that.

 

“Mom knows you’re out of the house. Betty, we have to go like now. When you get in my car we’ll make up a lie or something, but we have to go immediately and you need to put on clothes Jesus Christ Betty I said live a little not go skinny dipping in the river with your boyfriend.”

 

Betty flushed a brilliant red, making her way to the shoreline with Jughead’s help. “I wasn’t skinny dipping. I was using my underwear.”

 

“And we’re going to have to figure out how to explain to mom why those are wet,” he sighed, looking towards Jughead with narrowed eyes. “I don’t have time for real threats so we’ll go with blah blah blah you break her I break you blah blah blah. We both know Betty could break you herself though, I’ll just be there for moral support in the sidelines and to hide your body. Understood?”

 

Jughead salluted, “More than. Text me later, Betty? So I know that the dragon didn’t eat you alive.”

 

“God we’ll be lucky if that’s the worst she does,” Chic sighed and wrapped the towel tighter around her, helping to quick dry as much of her off as he could. “I have a shirt you can change into in the car. Thank god for your legging collection, because I’d hate to see you try to wiggle into jeans. Sweet Pea, Toni, always a pleasure to see you being neverdowells.”

 

They laughed good naturedly and waved him a goodbye. Chic ran ahead to start the car, telling Betty to hurry up one last time. When he disappeared over the brush, Jughead pulled Betty close, pressing one last kiss to her lips. They were getting better and better with practice

 

“Bye, Betty, who I guess is my girlfriend now.”

 

She giggled, stumbling backwards, “Goodbye Jughead who I guess is my boyfriend now.”

 

“See you tomorrow at school?”

 

“I could never miss Mr. Palmer’s not pop quiz. See you then.”

 

It was almost worth the month long grounding her mother gave her.

 

_ 17 years old _

For the first time in his life, Jughead was feeling good about himself. He walked through the halls of his high school feeling like his life was worth something, like he had all these dreams planned out in front of him, that his life wouldn’t end with him in jail for gang related violence, where he didn’t have to pick pockets just to get by. His SAT scores were in and thanks to a very dedicated girlfriend, he had scores good enough to get him to college. Maybe there would even be a scholarship. He was going to get out of Toledo and she was going to get out of the Farm and they were going together. Chic would be more than happy to help them set up a place in New York together.

 

He waited by his locker for his early morning before Chemistry kiss, but it never came. When the bell rang and the students were ushered into class, there was no Betty Cooper to remind him to actually turn in his homework. There was no Betty Cooper at lunch picking at his food and trading his overprocessed vending machine sweets for fresh produce she’d filched from her mother’s scared pantry. There was no Betty Cooper to walk home and kiss under the porch even as Polly flicked the lights on and off, swollen big with her pregnancy, crankier than usual about his presence in general.

 

Every hour he tried to text her. There was never a response, no three little dots to make sure she was okay, no heart and a kiss telling him she was home sick and would be back to school right as rain to help Sweet Pea and Toni study for midterms.

 

“You need to stop stressing. I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Toni tried to calm him down, but he could tell even she was worried. It wasn’t like Betty to be sick, let alone be sick and not tell anyone about it. She prided herself on her constitution and perfect attendance record despite all odds.

 

“Yeah,” Sweet Pea tried, “Maybe she’s just been locked at home by her harpy mom. You know how she gets sometimes. I bet Mother Alice is pissed off she found your contact information in Betty’s phone again. You know how much she hates you guys together.”

 

Maybe, was all he could say, but maybe wasn’t good enough. He skipped out on the newspaper meeting, sending out a mass text that important business had come up and both he and Betty were not available to come. He couldn’t ignore the passive aggressive eyeroll and eggplant emoji he got from Ethel, but at least no one else had said anything.

 

Jughead made his way to the Cooper house, a familiar trek he had practically memorized by now. There were countless nights he’d snuck across their threshold, accidently dragging mud on the hand spun rug that he would have to help Betty clean up before anyone else noticed. Polly always noticed. He never could figure out why she didn’t say anything. Maybe there was some sort of sisterly love deep in there after all, or maybe she simply didn’t want to face the wrath of Alice Cooper either.

 

The house was eery when he arrived, a shell of what it had been when he’d kissed his girlfriend goodbye the night before. His heart began to race as he looked for any sign of people. The other houses around were just as empty, with for rent and for sale signs pitched up. Other Farm members had lived around but now their houses were just as unoccupied as the Coopers.

 

He went to the front, knocking frantically, trying to peer in the windows. The potted plants outside were gone and the lights were off. If he squinted he could see the remnants of an old coffee table that had been broken a few nights ago tucked into the corner like discarded trash. Other than that, it was completely empty.

 

Betty had taught him a trick a few weeks ago. She said it might come in handy and slid the boppy pin into his hat with a laugh. Maybe she had known then, or maybe it was just luck coming to the rescue. He kneeled down and with deft hands managed to unlock the front door.

 

It was just as empty as it had seemed from the window. Everything looked spotless, meticulously cleaned, and if it weren’t for the scratches on the tile floor from dragging chairs he would have thought no one had ever lived here before. The family pictures were gone. The paintings were gone. The incense holders Betty hated were gone. Everything was gone.

 

Jughead rushed upstairs, head spinning, begging that there was something up there to tell him where they had gone, what had happened. People weren’t just magically raptured in the middle of the night. Polly’s room was empty, as was the nursery for the twins. The elephant wallpaper had either been torn down or painted over with a fresh coat of paint that made his throat ache when he breathed in. The bathroom was empty, not even a stray bottle of shampoo tucked in a hard to reach place.

 

Finally, he found Betty’s room. The little purple B sign that had been hanging there since the first time he visited was gone, but he could still make out a faint outline from where it had knocked against the wood one too many times. He threw open the door, dropping to his knees when he found everything just as spotless as the others rooms with no sign of Betty Cooper. The ladder that had always been perched at her window was gone too and the space she decorated with pictures just of them was no more. He walked forward, tracing his hands along the newly spackled area. These walls used to be littered with pin pricks. Now there was nothing.

 

He sat there and cried for a long time. He ignored calls from Toni and Sweet Pea, from Fangs, and even his mother. No one could reach him here, in the world where nothing existed except the break of his heart. Betty had left him with no notice. No note. There was no proof that Betty Cooper had even existed aside from his phone screen, their faces squished together in the back corner booth at their favorite diner, in a picture he hadn’t wanted to take but been to soft to say no to. It was her birthday and he wanted to make it special. She was wearing the necklace he bought her, a little amethyst tucked into the center. It was purple, just like purse she’d been wearing the day they met, and she’d laughed and kissed him senseless to say thank you. It cost weeks of paychecks but the smile on her face had been worth it.

 

When his bones began to ache from the cold, and his fingers started to tinge blue and numb, Jughead finally pulled himself off the floor. He hadn’t stopped crying. The love of his life had left him without anything, not a goodbye, not an explanation, just up and left him like everyone else in his life had done before.

 

On a last ditch effort, he went to the door of her closet, opening it up. To his surprise, inside was that little purple purse she had been wearing the first day they met, thrown in the back corner of the closet, like she was trying to hide it from someone’s watchful eyes. In a hurry he pulled it open, and out tumbled her favorite pink cardigan, balled up just to fit. He took a deep breath and pressed it to his face. It still smelt like Betty. It was warm like her. He thought that maybe it had been sprayed just that morning with her perfume, to help it linger one.

 

The first time Jughead’s heart ever broken was when he was seventeen years old he found Betty’s goodbye letter tucked into the pocket of her cardigan. It was hastily written on lined paper torn from a school notebook, science equations still scribbled in perfect font on the back.

 

_ Juggie, _

 

_ I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I can’t say goodbye. I can’t even write this letter, but Polly came in while I was crying tonight and gave me this paper. She told me I had five minutes so I’m writing everything I can. I hope you can read my handwriting. _

 

_ The Farm is moving, and since I’m not 18 years old, I can’t stay here. I cried and screamed and begged but my mom took my phone and told me it was for the best. That I had ‘bigger and better things to do with my life instead of waste it with some nothing boy in Toledo.’ But none of that is true. I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life in your embrace. _

 

_ Jughead I love you. I love you I love you I love you I love you. I wish I could write it 365 times for every day of the year so you can read them again if you ever forget. Please. Please don’t forget. Don’t forget me and don’t forget my love for you. _

 

_ You were my first and you’re my only. Ever since I met you I knew you were the one. When I’m with you the world makes sense. I can face anything with you by my side, whether it be wicked step mothers and horrible Farm cults. _

 

_ I get to have the necklace you gave me. Polly lied and said she gave it to me for healing properties. I’ll keep it forever, thinking of you, holding it and remembering the way you held me. But I wanted to give you something in return, so you could have a piece of me. I sprayed it with the perfume you said smells like candy. I hope that helps it linger. _

 

_ I love you. _

 

_ I love you I love you I love you I love you. _

 

_ And one day, I’ll find you. I promise I will. I hate to ask, but Juggie, please wait for me. Wait for me because in my heart you’ll always be mine and I’ll always be yours. The world will have to pry that love from my cold dead hands.  _

 

_ Stay strong, Juggie. Don’t let anger and hate and everything fester. You are so much more beautiful than everything you think you are. Please don’t go down the path of bad and dark because it’s what you think you are. Remember me like a light and I’ll guide you somewhere good. I promise. _

 

_ I love you. _

 

_ I love you I love you I love you I love you. _

 

_ Always and forever, _

 

_ B.C. _

 

He didn't stop crying, not even as he threw himself into bed, not when people came to ask him what had happened, not when his mother kicked at his door and told him to leave to go run her errands. When he did finally pull himself from the warm embrace of his comforter, he felt colder and his heart had been tucked deep within the warmth of a pink cardigan, waiting for the day it could thaw again.

 

_ 24 years old _

Jughead Jones sat in the corner office of chop shop, crunching the numbers his mother had thrown on his desk that morning before she’d left on some important business all the way in New York. It was probably their latest drug acquisition from some sleepy nowhere town called Riverdale. They were selling this new thing called Fizzle Rocks. He’d laughed his ass off the first time he ever heard of it, but apparently it was selling well and the seller wanted to expand things a little further west. The Toledo Serpents were just the folks to do that.

 

He kept an unlit cigarette between his lips. Every time he wanted to light it he thought about his younger sister Jellybean, half by blood, barely 11 years old and chasing him around with a squirt gun every time he dared to even think about inhaling. She was his responsibility most days, but she kept to herself and yelled orders almost as well as their mom did.

 

The rain outside pounded against the windowpanes and thunder made the whole place shake. He wondered how many of the pipes in this place would be leaking and if they’d have the money to actually pay for it this month.

 

“Fuck,” he sighed into the empty space, running a hand through his hair.

 

Numbers were rough right now. There had been a few police inquiries into their business arrangements, so he had to keep the books and the boys’ noses clean until that was more or less finished. That meant there was less side income helping to make sure everyone was getting their fair cut of things. He scribbled out his pay and knocked it down a little. Worst case scenario he could steal a few purses on the streets. He wasn’t using his sticky fingers very often these days, but he it never hurt to practice a learned skill.

 

Jughead laughed empty, resting his head against the chair. It groaned under his weight, brown leather cracked and pulled too tight. He had a headache today. He had a headache every day. Things had spiraled down into nothingness and it was all his fault. The day Betty left he jumped off the deep end, plunging straight into gang affairs that she had begged him to stay away from. He gave up his scholarship and took a semester of community college classes before giving up and being lured back in the the Serpents siren song of easy cash and borderless rules.

 

There was a key tucked away in his back pocket, and he pulled it out, unlocking the bottom drawer to his desk. Ever since he took over, that was where he hid his most valuable things from prying eyes. There were pictures from school carnivals, pop’s dates, and polaroids Toni had took at the river during easier days. Hidden beneath a few of their school articles was that familiar pink cardigan.

 

It didn’t smell like Betty anymore. It smelt like grease and regret, with a hint of tequila from his few and far between benders where he’d stumble home and cry until Sweet Pea would shove the clothing into his arms and force him into bed. He held it close to his chest, taking steady breaths to calm his frantically beating heart. What would Betty think of him now?

 

She had never come back like she promised. She never came to white knight him away from all the pain and worries and troubles. There was no magical moment like he had spent nights dreaming where they would embrace and never be forced apart again. The dreams were vivid at first, until time got in the way. Now he barely dreamed about her at all, but when he did he woke up feeling like death had come to visit him and the world was threatening to end.

 

Hopelessly, Jughead still waited. There were half hearted attempts at moving on, most of which ended with a disgruntled shirtless girl stumbling out of his apartment when he couldn’t keep it up long enough--or whispered Betty against a woman’s neck whose name was absolutely Barbara. There was no one in the world he wanted but her, and if that meant he died a lonely hermit man than so be it. No matter how many times Sweet Pea tried to change that.

 

Most days he sat and let his mind wander to what life would be like if she had stayed. Him and Betty would have just graduated from NYU together. They would be huddled up by the fire of their little studio apartment, congratulating each other on their dream jobs, a cat or a dog tucked close to them. Betty would smile and kiss him and everything would feel good and right again. Not hollow and empty like it was now.

 

There was a bang on his door, interrupting him from his daydreams. Jughead groaned, “I thought there was a  _ do not disturb _ sign pinned to the door?”

 

“Jug!” Jellybean threw open the door, her blonde hair dripping wet and her flannel leaving puddles on the floor. “There’s someone at the door. She’s hysterical and she keeps saying that she needs to see you.”

 

He sighed, shaking his head. It was strange, but no completely unheard of for an attempted flame to come running to cause ruckus in his shop because they felt jilted. “Then tell her to go away? JB I’m way too busy for this shit and you know that. I don’t know who the hell she is but she needs to leave.”

 

“Oh yeah? Because she definitely looks like the girl from all those photos you’ve got Sweet Pea just keeps whispering ‘holy shit’ and telling people not to touch her.”

 

The chair clattered to floor as he stood to his feet, eyes wide and heart unable to keep a steady beat. “Betty? JB show me where they are now.”

 

He took the stairs at a time, praying that this wasn’t the world playing tricks on him, or he hadn’t fallen asleep at his desk and ended up in a dream turned nightmare. The lower down he got the more he could hear. Someone was crying hysterically and there were sounds of people milling around in wonder. They were grouped up by the bar watching someone who was clinging to Sweet Pea’s side.

 

“Oh thank God,” Toni’s eyes widened when she spotted him, shooting up and rushing to his side. “We were worried you wouldn’t come down out of your ivory tower Rapunzel.”

 

“Not now, Toni,” he cut around her, moving close until the picture before him came into view.

 

The second time Jughead’s heart ever broke was the night Betty Cooper came back to him, soaking wet with cuts on her feet and a few bruises on her face wearing nothing but white. Her eyes went wide and she rushed to him, throwing her arms tight around his waist. She smelt just like her. It was sugary and sweet in all the same ways the cardigan had been. This was not some mischievous apparition come to torment him. This was her.

 

“Juggie. I’m so happy I’m home.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long guys! there was something about this second half that was significantly more difficult to write for me than the other part! Kudos to @miss--eee for beta-ing it for me and really helping me work through some of the trickier parts in the writing.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this and thank you all for reading the first part!
> 
> A warning: this section discusses Betty's abuse at the Farm. It's not pretty, but it's also not super detailed. So tread lightly. It is the section marked "24 years old-Betty Cooper"

_ 24 years old - Jughead Jones _

Thunder crackled overhead, shaking the small one bedroom apartment that had been hastily constructed as an add on to the chop shop a few years ago. Rain beat down against the window panes as the wind threatened to uproot a tree in the front yard. A thin line of smoke curled out from a cigarette as Jughead flicked the ash of a cigarette he hadn’t put to his lips since he had lit it up. He hadn’t moved much since he had carried Betty to his home, tucking her into bed to give her the chance to sleep.

 

No one had managed to get much information out of her. She had been all but hysteric until he arrived and after that she had collapsed forward into his arms - shaking, wet, and obviously exhausted. Every few minutes she would shiver and Jughead would get up to readjust her blankets until her body calmed and a gentle little smile graced her expression. It was a way of reassuring himself that she was there, right in front of him, only now she was the ghostly woman of a girl he hadn’t seen in over seven years.

 

There was so much about her that was still the same. She still had blonde hair, longer now and duller and lacking it’s usual sheen. She still had the freckles and moles on her face that he remembered tracing when they laid curled up together in bed planning futures together that would never come to fruition. Only now her face looked pained.

 

Jughead could roughly piece together a tale of woe from the rough lines carved above her forehead and the bruises on her body. Something had happened and someone had hurt her, a fact that filled in with rage so intense. Her feet were bleeding and there were no shoes in sight. The bottom of her white dress was caked in dirt, and foliage had been caught in her hair. She was so thin that he was sure Jellybean could wrap her hand around Betty’s wrist and have room to wiggle it.

 

While he watched her sleep, he wondered what had happened to her, and if he would ever really even know. There were answers he was expecting to get, but he wasn’t sure how forthcoming she could be in such a distressed state.

 

He was scared about what might happen when she woke up. He was certainly not the boy he was before she left him and she could not possibly be that same optimistic wide-eyed girl. Somehow, she had found him, but the ramifications of that he was not completely sure he was willing to accept or deal with. The Serpents were a gang - the type of people who stole and cheated and wielded guns on people who tried to fight. The least of their offenses were the occasional drunken bar fights. This was not a place where people thrived, especially the traumatized.

 

Betty stirred again, rolling to her side and whimpering in her sleep. Her eyes fluttered behind closed lids as her hands reached out for something. Jughead snuffed out his cigarette and went to her, setting his hand on hers, bringing her knuckles to his lips and pressing a sweet kiss there. She relaxed a little as the tension released around her shoulders.

 

He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, or really even how, but when Jughead woke up he was sitting at his old desk chair, a crick in his neck that ached and an ashtray full of half-burned cigarettes beside him. He blinked the sleep away trying to readjust his eyes to the flood of light through his curtains. It was still raining outside, though just barely. There might be some business today if the roads were slick enough to cause a few highway breakdowns. Sweet Pea and Toni should be able to handle it and if they didn’t they knew they could climb up a few steps to come find him. He had asked not to be disturbed today--gang business or otherwise--so he could sort out exactly what was happening in the strange curveball life had just thrown at him. Hopefully, he would remember how to catch.

 

When he stretched, the entirety of his spine cracked one right after the other and he shivered in the cold air. There was a blanket around his shoulders, one of Jellybean’s if the polka dot pattern was any giveaway, and he cursed under his breath. The bed to his right creaked as the events of last night enlightened him again.

 

Betty was laying there, green eyes wide, watching his every movement while she stayed still like a stone under her many layers. When she caught his gaze, a small smile faltered at her lips and she reached out for his hand. He took it without hesitation.

 

“Hi.” Her voice sounded hoarse, tired, but it was the loveliest sound in the world to him.

 

His face cracked open and he grinned, wide and unashamed, finding himself laughing--laughing in pain, or relief perhaps. “Hey. Long time, no see.”

 

It was strange, how much younger he felt, staring down at her small frame, fingers tangled together like she had never left. If he closed his eyes for long enough the fantasy might consume him and he’d be lost in a paradise of New York apartments and easier days. She squeezed his hand once and pulled him back to reality. Even as she shook she was so good at grounding him.

 

“You joined the Serpents.” It wasn’t a question, though she posed it as one, and Jughead swallowed the lump in his throat before nodding a yes. She looked sad, eye softening as her cold fingers danced on his skin. “Okay.”

 

“You joined the Farm.” She nodded this time and he relaxed in his seat, never letting go of her hand. “Okay.”

 

Unspoken acceptance for their own pitfalls, their imperfections as human beings. He sighed and nervously worried the bottom of his lip. “I’m hungry. Do you want breakfast?”

 

Betty grinned up at him, nodding. “You always want breakfast.”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

 

He awkwardly hobbled together something resembling pancakes with the last bit of milk and eggs in his fridge. There was a forgotten grocery list trapped under an Empire State building magnet that Toni had picked up on a trip with her girlfriend. Hastily he added the ingredients, feeling for the first time that he might have some follow through on shopping. When Jughead turned around after flopping the last flapjack onto a blue birthday paper plate--it hadn’t been anyone’s birthday in two months--Betty was standing a few feet away, white knuckle gripping to the wall to keep her upright and steady.

 

Seeing her stand up straight, Jughead could easily see the damage that had been done to her small frame. She was nearly a willow wisp, shaking in the crackled air conditioning, one of the blankets she had stolen from the bed wrapped tightly around her shoulders. The white dress she had stumbled through the doors of the chop shop in had been discarded and he could see the edge of an old flannel rubbing against the tops of her thighs. 

 

Catching his eyes on her, Betty blushed, pulling the shirt down a little more. “Sorry. I should have asked but I didn’t want to wear that thing anymore. I can go change if you want.”

 

“No! No,” he cringed at the sound of his own hurried voice. “It looks good on you. Keep it.”

 

She smiled then and nodded, sliding into one of the bar stools parked at his kitchen counter. They had been on sale at Goodwill and Jellybean, too short to see over it, had demanded they make the purchase. When Gladys was off doing whatever she did, Jellybean would stay with Jughead in the spare bedroom, where she had properly decorated walls and a record player she loved to sing to late at night. Wisely she had made herself scarce this morning. Hopefully, Toni and Sweet Pea were making sure she kept herself out of trouble.

 

“You didn’t have to make me breakfast, Jug. I’m sure you have better things to do than take care of me. I’m sorry I just appeared out of nowhere last night and interrupted everything.”

 

“You obviously had a good reason. People don’t usually show up all in white looking like they just ran through a forest and don’t need a place to stay. And no, you’re right, I didn’t need to do anything. But I wanted to. I’ve missed you, Betty, and I don’t know where the hell you’ve been. You leave me this letter telling me to wait for you and then I get radio silence for six years. I thought the second you turned 18 you’d be back in Toledo, so what the hell happened?”

 

She paled and Jughead instantly regretted his aggressiveness. He was hurt, aching more than he thought he was, and not doing a particularly good job at keeping his emotions locked in an airtight seal. He sighed and forced his shoulders down into a more relaxed stance. Being in the Serpents, he was used to putting on a show of dominance. Something told him that probably wouldn’t work too well here.

 

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn't have raised my voice. I’m glad you’re here and I’m glad you’re okay but I have a lot of questions and this,” he gestured to up and down. Every part of her only added to the ever-growing mystery of her disappearance, “does nothing but give me more of them.”

 

“I know Juggie. You deserve answers and I promise you’ll get them. Something happened and I needed somewhere to go and I just, everything happened there, at the Farm. There was so much and mom kept telling me you wouldn’t wait, that it was too much time and you wouldn’t care if I showed up at your doorstep, you would just turn me away. And I shouldn’t have listened because that’s what they did. They just kept chipping away until I thought the only thing  I had left was the Farm.” Her voice cracked and tears splattered down, mixing with the thick syrup. She reached up to wipe at her face before continuing. “Chic wasn’t calling me. He left one night to get milk from the city and then never came back and mom and Polly told me he must have hated me. I shouldn’t have believed anything they said but I felt so alienated and alone.” Jughead cautiously reached over the counter, moving the pancakes away and setting his hand over hers. She was so small. 

 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I can’t right now. Is that okay? I’m sorry.” She threaded their fingers together and brought his hand up to press against her cheek. There was a purple bruise right under his thumb, from where someone had smacked her with something and in her eyes he saw all the pieces of the world broken apart. He wondered if that’s what she saw in him too.

 

They were both just remnants of the past.

 

He softened and nodded, “Okay. That’s okay.”

 

It was unspoken that she took up residence in his room after that, tucked away under the blankets as the breaks and pains started to heal. He took her to a doctor the following day who told her she was lucky the worst she had gotten was a small infection in the cuts of her feet. The day after that Sweet Pea and Toni came to see her again, filling the room with huge and gentle teasing. In the dead of night, Jughead sent them off to find Chic Cooper in hopes of filling in some of the blanks Betty had yet to offer.

 

Three days after Betty moved in she got to meet Jellybean. The young girl had made herself scarce, occupied by games she played with the other too young to be initiated Serpents and the whispered rumors everyone had about what was happening behind the Jones’ closed doors. She was a whirl of blonde hair, a math textbook, and a few questions Jughead couldn’t answer.

 

Betty was tucked into bed, sleeping off some of the nausea from the antibiotics when Jellybean finally made her appearance again. She had her school bag on her shoulders and her eyebrows were pressed together in confusion as she stretched out her arms to show him her textbook. In big bold purple letters, it exclaimed GO MATH! as anthropomorphized signs sunbathed by an oasis pond. She didn’t ask for help, just pulled up a bar stool next to her and set the book between them.

 

“Did they change math?” Jughead whispered, flipping through the pages detailing how to multiply fractions. “This doesn’t make any sense to me.”

 

“It’s called common core,” Jellybean explained with a shrug. “It’s the only math I know. But mom’s not here and I tried to get Fangs to help me and he threw the book and tried to teach me how to play pool instead.”

 

“We’ll have to have a conversation with him about that one. Alright. Fuck, I was never good at math.”

 

She grinned and poked his shoulder. “You owe a quarter to Toni’s swear jar.”

 

“Fuck Toni’s swear jar.”

 

“Well, now you owe two, dumbass.”

 

The floorboards creaked and he saw Betty emerge from the hallway, draped in her favorite knit blanket. She had gained a little weight living here and the bruises on her body were fading from angered purple to an ugly yellow. With a smile, she took a few more steps forward, waving at the two of them. “You must be Jellybean. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

 

“And you must be Betty. I’ve watched my brother stare at your picture for years. And smell your cardigan. Which is weird, by the way, but no judgments if that’s how you want to do your relationship. Hey, do you happen to know how to do math?”

 

Before Jughead could throw his sister out of a window, Betty had moved to sit on the other side of her, picking up the book with a curious hum. “Maybe. I volunteered at the elementary school by the Farm for a little while. I’m sure I could help a little.”

 

Watching Betty work with Jellybean ignited a strange sort of rumble in his chest. His two favorite blondes whispered conspiratorially over an open textbook, scribbling quickly on spare pieces of notebook paper. It was like one of his wildest fantasies popped straight out of a daydream.

 

That night, after homework was finished, they had dinner together. Betty had insisted upon helping so Jughead could get some work done for the shop even if it was just office work and account closing. It was strange how domestic it all felt. There were moments he was afraid of closing his eyes for too long, for fear everything might fade away and he would find the space beside him in bed had never been occupied by anything more than a cruel figment of his imagination.

 

Betty did the dishes while Jellybean got ready for bed. Jughead put on a movie for noise, the flicker of the black and white screen engulfing the small living room space. It was good background noise as he quickly typed out a plan for the next Serpent meeting. 

 

She appeared like an angel, pulling the blanket off the couch and wrapping it around her shoulders. She got cold easily so he had made sure there was always one within reach around the apartment. There were a lot of things they hadn’t talked about yet, instead falling into a strange pattern of comfort, their hands tangled together whenever they were close.

 

“Juggie….I think I’m ready to tell you about what happened, at the Farm.”

 

He didn’t say anything, just shifted, pulling her head against his chest so she knew he was listening.

 

_ 24 Years Old-Betty Cooper _

The Farm had been Betty’s home for nearly seven years now. The first few years she counted down the days until she was eighteen, where she could pack up all her things and run as fast as she could back to Toledo, to find the boy she knew was waiting for her. Her and Chic had a plan. He would hang around, push back his baptism as long as he could, and then when the moment was right they’d abscond as far away as they could in the back of his pickup truck.

 

But Chic had disappeared the morning of her eighteenth birthday and no matter how many letters she wrote to nowhere, replies never came. She felt betrayed, lied to her and her mother took it as the opportunity she needed to pounce.

 

“Your own brother left you, Elizabeth. He doesn’t care. Not the way Polly or I or the rest of the people here care. And what about the boy you said loves you? Where is he? Certainly not here trying to fight for you like you claim he would.”

 

At first, she was good at ignoring it, pushing the bile in her throat down so she could focus on a better tomorrow. But with every day she ticked off her calendar, every Farm meeting where herbal tea was force fed to her through a funnel, every botched escape attempt that had her locked in the Farm’s ‘sinner basement’, hope morphed into something more strongly resembling pain. It all came to a head when the police arrived. An anonymous tip had brought them here and for a moment she wondered if Chic had sent them to her. It was all some sort of nightmare when her mother opened her mouth to speak, explaining that Betty had become mute due to abuse suffered from her older brother and would be unable to have a conversation with the police officers. They looked to her and the only thing she could do was open her mouth like a floundering fish and snap it closed tight.

 

No one else came to save her after that. It was like she was trapped, stuck in a cyclical world of despair where the only escape would be a quick and merciful death. She went to church when her sister dragged her out of the house. She wore her white clothes and knitted blankets for the other members of the Farm. She bowed her head over crystals and drank tea that tasted like bitter leaves. She withered until every time she looked into the mirror, she saw nothing but the ghost of the fire there had always been.

 

At twenty-four years old, Betty was convinced she would die at the Farm, her personal prison constructed out of supposed light and hope. She would die when they forced her into the water for the baptism she had been denying. She would die and it would mean freedom at last.

 

On the eve of it, she gathered the possessions her mother asked her to. They would be burned for her cleansing so she could move on from her stagnation of this world. It was mechanical, picking things up and tossing them into the fire. Every book she had ever loved, every journal she had ever written, every picture from her home in Toledo. It wasn’t until her mother grabbed the small necklace, breaking the silver chain and tossing it into the flames, that Betty felt anything at all.

 

The rage simmered quietly under the surface at first as the reality dawned on her senses. The last thing of Jughead, the love of her life, had been tossed away so easily. She moved quickly, throwing herself forward to reach for the necklace through the flames but a few Farm hands caught her, holding her back as she screamed and cried and kicked to fight them back.

 

“You have to let it go, Elizabeth,” her mother said softly, cupping her cheeks. “You have to. I know Polly gave you that necklace but even that needs to be forgotten so you can be accepted with open arms. We give everything we have to the Farm. Everything.”

 

Betty calmed at her mother’s gentleness and nodded, “I understand, Mother.” All the while the first spark of fight rose within her once again until it bubbled to the surface.

 

That night, she ran. When all the lights were out in the commune and the moment the guards switched patrols, Betty ran. She ran through the forest so they couldn’t catch her, ignoring the way the thorns ate at her feet, the harsh scratch of the brush against her legs. She ran until her legs got sore and someone took pity on her, walking along the side of the road.

 

Only one of the driver’s tried to sleep with her. Some of them asked if she needed a hospital or money for a room to sleep in. Most of them didn’t ask any questions at all.

 

Betty hitchhiked her way to Toledo, forgetting to eat, to sleep, to drink enough water. When the hunger was too much to ignore, she remembered the time Jughead had taught her how to pick people’s pockets or filch things off of shelves in the market. She only got caught once and was lucky enough to get nothing but a slap on the wrist and a trip to the local halfway house.

 

If someone asked her how she stumbled across Jones Mechanics, she wouldn’t be able to tell them. Perhaps it was  divine intervention, a bout of well-deserved karma that led her running through the mud straight into the only shop with an open sign. She was in hysterics the second she saw Toni, collapsing into her arms and clinging tightly to her.

 

“Where’s Juggie? Where is he? I need to see him.”

 

People tried to talk, to shout over her, a panic of confusion, but she argued and pushed her way through them until Sweet Pea had to step in her path and help calm her hysterics. When she saw him she could barely think straight. He looked different, tired, but just as handsome as she remembered. The same stupid hat on his unruly hair and eyes so beautiful and wide it was like she was swallowed by the ocean. That hint of mischief was gone, no longer crackling silently behind his gaze.

 

Who were they now but shattered ghosts of yesterday?

 

_ 24 years old - Jughead Jones _

They didn’t speak at the conclusion of her story. The air in the room was suffocatingly stagnant as his hand traces through the messy tendrils of her hair and the soft pitter patter of an incoming rainstorm consumed Toledo. It had been raining more lately and if Jughead believed a little more in God and a little more in fate, he would think someone was weeping for them.

 

“I’m sorry,” she croaked, “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

 

“Shhh….shhh don’t….not right now. No more regrets like this right now. You’re here and that’s what matters. You’re with me and safe and I won’t let anyone hurt you. They won’t hurt you.”

 

He had become a weak man in the days since Betty’s departure and the temptation to send his Serpents on a genocidal mission to the Farm sat idly in the back of his mind. He kept himself calm by tracing along the divet between her shoulder blades, pressing gentle kisses against her skin. She was here and safe and that was what mattered in the end. If the Farm came after her, then he would attack without mercy, but for now, he would leave them to their delusions for he had claimed the most important prize there was.

 

“Will you let me stay?”

 

Jughead nodded, “Forever, if you wanted. I missed you so much, Betty. I did some terrible things while you were gone. I’m a Serpent now, but not just one, practically the leader while my mother runs around. I’ve gone to jail for petty theft and I’ve hurt people. Badly. Do you think you can be around that?”

 

It was silent after that and if it weren’t for the steady hiccups in her breathing, Jughead might have thought she had fallen asleep on him. Slowly, her hand snaked up, cupping his cheeks and pulling him downward. His breath ghosted against her lip as she nodded. “Okay.”

 

And then he was kissing it for the first time in too long. They were together, wrapped in each other’s warmth. He felt the moon burst through the rain clouds and paint his skin in blue. His lips were chapped, awkwardly brushing against hers. Their teeth clanked like they had on the Riverbank and when he pulled back she was giggling. He smiled too.

 

They floundered to find peace in each other again. Every touch was hesitant, every kiss cautious until the fire started to burn at his skin and they carved each other’s names into their hearts again. For so long he had been consumed by emptiness, the same kind that always weighed down his pockets when he needed something to eat. Tonight he felt full again and was determined to cherish her in all the ways she deserved.

 

“Don’t ever stop kissing me,” she whispered, tracing kissing along his nose, a prayer to whoever was listening. “Don’t ever stop holding me. Don’t ever stop loving me.”

 

“I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.”

 

The next morning he woke up with a blanket tossed over his shoulders and a letter from Jellybean telling him she had hitched a ride to school from Toni. Despite the gang moniker the Serpents held, the familial void they filled for him was something to be cherished. They would take Jellybean to school for him and if he ever had to be gone, he knew they could keep Betty safe with one flick of his wrist--not that he really needed to when Toni and Sweet Pea seemed just as excited to have her back as he was.

 

Jughead smiled down at Betty, sleeping soundly on his chest, her first curled tightly in his t-shirt and he felt at ease. Time, which had created his wounds, would work hard to heal them. He knew that together, they could conquer everything

 

A few days later a certain duo burst down the door, a monopoly game tucked under Toni’s arm and a plate of food outstretched in the other. Jellybean bounced ecstatic and helped set the game up while nagging at Sweet Pea to stop trying to stack money on his pile when she wasn’t looking. He watched Toni take Betty into the kitchen, for them to talk about something he couldn’t hear--and perhaps didn’t want to--before they appeared linked arm and arm.

 

Jughead looked across the dining room table, a juxtaposition of his two worlds colliding. Betty, a relic from an idyllic past painted artfully forward into the future, and a roof over his head that belonged to him, a sister to support, and company to keep.

 

“You ready to lose, Jones?” Sweet Pea teased, plopping his hat on Park Place, chopsticks hanging out between his teeth.

 

“I’m ready to watch you fall to your knees begging for sympathy while Betty mortgages your last few pieces because you couldn’t pay her.”

 

Betty laughed and napped a pot sticker from the communal pile. “That only happened once and we were like fifteen, Juggie. I don’t think I’m as cutthroat and ruthless of a slum lord as I was back then.”

 

Jughead watched as Jellybean turned to Betty, looking at her like she had just hung the moon. He hoped this would lead to a positive female influence in her life. The Serpents were good people, but they did bad things, and Gladys was the most wicked of them all. Watching Jellybean chase after her mother’s approval the same way he had growing up was crushing. Maybe with Betty around, she would have someone else to mirror.

 

“You can do common core math and you kick Sweet Pea’s ass at Monopoly? You’re amazing!”

 

“Quarter!” Toni shouted, pointing at the overflowing mason jar tucked into the back bookshelf. “Now you’re starting to feed your own college fund, kid.”

 

“What if I don’t want to go to college? Betty, did you ever go to college?”

 

She sighed, shaking her head as a small sad smile pulled at the corners of her lips. “No I didn’t, but I wish I had. There’s nothing wrong with not going to college if it’s not what you want to do, but it’s something you should give serious thought to, Jellybean. You’re a smart girl and I remember you were telling me the other day you really liked music. You could go to college for that.”

 

Jellybean sunk down in her seat but around the second bite of a cream cheese wonton, Jughead swore he heard her whisper, “Maybe I do want to go to college then.”

 

_ 25 Years Old _

It took eight months to track down the whereabouts of Chic Cooper, who had hidden himself away in Florida of all places, as far away from the Farm as he could get. He told a very pissed off Toni that he had tried to get in touch with Betty, but been blocked out by his mother. The same mother who had also forced him out of the commune in the dead of night after he overheard her and Edgar whispering about sending him to a local insane asylum. There wasn’t a chance for him to do anything but run and hope Polly would give Betty a letter saying he was sorry.

 

She hadn’t.

 

And now, somehow, they had managed to convince Chic to come to Toledo again, to see his sister in hopes of helping them mend a relationship. Of course, he hadn’t told Betty about the impending arrival of her brother. It worried Jughead, just a little, that he might be able to witness someone’s personal explosion. But he was also sure this was what needed to be done for Betty to finally heal.

 

Therapy was helping. It had taken some arguments to get her to agree to go, but finally, she was on board and after a few sessions even grateful. The Farm had left a lot of trauma on her mind and body that needed to be worked through.

 

They were sitting around the kitchen having their weekly family dinner when Betty noticed his fidgeting. She reached out and set her hand on his as Sweet Pea rolled the dice for his fifth attempt at getting out of jail. When it hit the board he cursed at his failure.

 

“Is everything okay?” Betty asked softly, hoping she didn’t disturb the fun that was happening.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, everything's fine. I’m just anxious about work. We’re still not doing great at the shop, but it’s been better now that you’ve been helping out. Apparently, we needed someone with a magic touch working on cars.”

 

She blushed, smiling gently. “You’re sweet, Jug. But I’m just a good mechanic. You’re the cute face of the brand.”

 

Before he could lean down and kiss her, there was a gentle knock at the door. Jughead felt his heart jump  as fear settled comfortably in his stomach. Betty stood to answer, but he moved quickly, grabbing the door handle and opening it wide.

 

He hadn’t seen Chic since the entire Cooper family had disappeared. He was older now, with facial hair on his chin and tired looking eyes. There was some gray in his hair but when he smiled Jughead could hear Betty gasp by his side.

 

“Chic. You’re here. You’re alive! I thought maybe something had happened to you,” Betty threw herself forward, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. There were tears in her eyes as they held each other tightly. It was a reunion that touched Jughead’s heart and he tried to imagine how bad it would hurt to have to leave Jellybean.

 

The siblings sat on the couch and talked for a long time and bit by bit they repaired the heartache that had occurred. Chic apologized for leaving; Betty told him not to, now that she finally understood why he’d left. 

 

Jughead turned to watch the sun slowly set on the horizon. It’s rays reached out to paint the landscape of Toledo. Things would be good from now on, he could feel it in his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> ....... :D
> 
>  
> 
> Follow (or hate me) on tumblr at @tory-b


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